


And a Following Sea

by fencer_x



Category: Free!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Splash Free, M/M, Merman Nanase Haruka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2014-11-20
Packaged: 2018-02-26 08:19:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2644757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fencer_x/pseuds/fencer_x
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither Rin nor Haru are all that thrilled to be the representatives of their respective peoples, expected to serve a year as figureheads holding a treaty together, but peace must start somewhere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And a Following Sea

**Author's Note:**

> The illustrations included with this piece are the work of [plaemon](http://plaemon.tumblr.com), with much gratitude from the author!

_“In recognition of the fact that a nation at war can neither prosper nor adequately care for its people, the Sovereign Sultanate of the Whitecap Laurel and the Crown Junta of the Eastern Mer Holdings do, on this day, on the northern shore of the Garland Sentry at the evening high tide, commit to a lasting peace with immediate cessation of all martial activities by both peoples._

_To this end, the Sultanate and Crown Junta, will—for the period of one year (one migration cycle)—commit one Representative each of their own citizenry to be Bound as a symbol of the peaceful union of these two peoples. As sea is bound to shore is bound to sea, so shall be these individuals, and so shall be these nations.”_

—Excerpt from the _Treaty of Garland Sentry_ ; 733 Sayydran 21 // Migration 2301, Waning Crescent 5

* * *

Rin hoped the Syren knew he could see him.

If he wanted to float there in his little pool, submerged up to his nose while silently judging Rin with an empty stare and finding him wanting, well then that was his prerogative. But that shock of black hair stood out stark against the crisp white stucco of the far wall he liked to hug, and while the pool he’d been corralled into was large enough in depth and breadth so as not to be too confining (no more so at least than these rooms Rin could no longer leave, on pain of a very agonizing and drawn-out death), each sweep of those wide, fanned flukes sent up a rush of bubbles that left no doubt where he lurked just beneath the water’s calm, placid surface.

So he didn’t want the Syren laboring under some ridiculous idea that he was being remotely _subtle_ about the silent watch he kept, because it was only eight days into their sentence—or as Rin had been reassured, _sacrifice_ —and Rin was already starting to go stir-crazy. _One_ of them needed to keep his head throughout this ordeal, or else they were just going to wind up throttling one another before a moon cycle had passed.

"I can _see you_ , you know," he reminded aloud, just in case, being sure to raise his voice to be heard across the room. When this drew no response—not that anything ever drew a response; the Syren hadn't done more than bubble indignantly at him since they arrived—he _tsk_ ed softly under his breath and peevishly kicked the leg of the writing desk he was seated before. He'd dragged it to its current location, tucked inside an alcove facing a wall of tall bay windows, initially in a fit of contrary annoyance. The Bond had been newly applied and still stung around the edges of his mind like a fresh scab, but he'd ignored the Mer elders' solemn warnings and his own Commander Prince's sharp, staccato orders not to _push_ —that overly straining a new Bond could lead to any number of adverse reactions—and instead decided to see just how far the thing stretched.

He'd figured it out while he waited for the world to stop spinning when he finally roused from where he'd passed out on the tiled floor, a sudden wave of nausea and the feeling of needles tearing at his mind the only warning he'd had that he'd pushed too far. Bonded pairs weren't meant to stray too far from one another, evidently, and loath as Rin was to spend even one waking moment in the same room as a Syren, he had little choice if he wanted to keep both their minds—and the treaty, of course—intact.

It was supposed to be an honor. That had been the idea as it'd been presented to him, at least. He, among all others, had been _chosen_.

 _The pride of the Laurel Fleet_ , they'd praised him; _his father's son_ , they'd lauded—but now, legs drawn up to his chest and toes curling on the edge of the chair as he rested his chin on the bony knobs of his knees and engaged the Syren in a staring match, he saw the whole farce for what it was.

Their peoples had been at war for so long, Rin doubted any of them really knew _how_ to be at peace. _He_ certainly was struggling with the idea. But Laurel wives grew weary of sending husbands and sons off to be dragged into the deep by Merrauders, and the gaols were fit to bursting with Mer-men, the mindless simpletons the Mer became when the scorching Sun dried their scales to cracklings and sapped away any memory of the great ocean they came from. Something had to be done; neither people would survive another season of loss, and politicians were politicians both atop and below the waves.

So a treaty had been drawn up; the Mer would allow an agreed-upon number of trading vessels to pass unmolested through the Laurel channels, bound for distant shores that promised prosperity, and the Sultanate’s fishermen would leave the safety of the garland for deeper waters, ceding the rich inner sea to the Mer to hunt. That had been how it had all started, he recalled from his school-day studies: competition over fishing grounds. Stupid, really. But most wars tended to be.

Now, here he was, in a very cozy, very well-kept _prison_ , tethered to something not even _human_ , all because he'd had the bad luck to be one of the most recognizable faces in the Fleet and therefore first-pick to be the Sultanate's representative. Five of the best years of his life seeing mercantile ships safely through the Sentry and on to the golden shores of far-off exotic lands he'd never actually get to _see_ himself—and for what? A year's sentence as a _figurehead_ , Bound and chained behind four walls, his only company one of the very creatures he'd spent a quarter of his life flaying open before hurling them back into the sea they'd crawled out of.

He occasionally wondered what the Syren had done to deserve this, before ultimately deciding he didn't really care to know.

The Syren gave a snort, blowing bubbles in Rin's direction, as if he'd sensed the imagined slight, and slunk along the far wall of his pool—he liked to linger _just_ at the edge of their Bond, just far enough away from Rin that they could both bear the annoyance, knowing the irritation would only mount the longer they strained themselves until eventually, one or the other would give in and shift positions. Today, Rin would lose—his legs were already starting to cramp anyway—and with an irritated huff, he unfurled himself, stretching his arms over his head and grousing, "Don't take it out on me if you're bored; _you're_ the one who knocked the chess tiles into the pool yesterday when I tried to be a _decent human being_ and help us pass the time. _Haru_."

Even half-submerged as he was, Rin didn't miss the sour grimace that flashed over those graceful features at the pet name Rin had given him. _Harukananase_ , the Mer elders had announced him as, but that was a ridiculous mouthful and there was no way Rin was ever going to remember it even if he'd wanted to, so he'd taken to thinking of the Syren as just _Haru_. It helped that it seemed to piss him off royally, and Rin took every opportunity available to address him by name.

He settled at the edge of the pool that took up half their room, letting his feet dangle into the water and sending ripples spreading across the surface until they slapped against the Syren's smooth, scale-dappled skin. "Y'know, if all you're gonna do all day is pout and _stare_ at me, I've got half a mind to stop even _trying_ to make this slightly more bearable for the both of us. I'm happy to call for books to be sent here from the library and just curl up in the alcove all day." He jerked a thumb toward the desk, and Haru's eyes followed the gesture warily. "I didn't exactly volunteer to be stuck here." Though on reflection, he might have, had the suggestion been presented; he was stupidly committed to duty, like that. He waved off the recollection, though, kicking lightly to send up a spray that nearly reached Haru at the opposite end of the pool. "But we're here, regardless. So maybe you'd like to stop being a _prick_ and leave off with the headaches? You ought to understand the limitations of this thing better than me." When Haru shunted his gaze to the side and feigned ignorance, he added with a reprimanding tone, "And don't pretend like you don't understand me, either." Rin's Lorelei was horrible, but the Elders at the treaty signing had reassured all present that Haru-whateverhisnamewas had a competent enough grasp on Trade to ensure they didn't wind up killing each other through mere miscommunication.

If they couldn't come to _some_ manner of accord, the next year being stuck like this, practically cheek to jowl, was going to be _excruciating_. In more ways than one. Taking ten paces in any direction had his head feeling as if it were going to split open—and the knowledge that Haru felt the same (and was simply better at masking his discomfort) was little balm. But the squid-for-brains refused to leave his pool, not even to sit on the low steps leading out of the shallows and up into the bedroom proper; indeed, he seemed to be refusing to shift largely out of spite, a living ball and chain that kept Rin from roaming about the compound in search of something, _anything_ , to distract. He understood the Mer couldn't afford to let themselves dry out entirely, lest they lose their minds and any memory of how to shift back; but Rin wasn't asking for Haru to give up his tail on a permanent basis—he just wanted to be able to at least browse the stacks in the compound's expansive library. Maybe he could requisition a large tub and a rolling cart...

Something glinting in the afternoon sunlight caught his attention from the corner of his eye, and he cocked his head—recognizing the burnished brass fish pail that the attendants brought in, like clockwork, every morning. It was starting to stink now, the uneaten bait inside beginning to rot and give off noxious fumes. Rin frowned to himself in thought; he'd yet to see Haru eat anything, not once in over a week now. Maybe Mer could go without food for longer than humans, but given how fiercely they defended their hunting grounds, a week must surely be pushing it. A bucket of chum not fit for even a shark certainly didn't seem like Rin's idea of a feast, but surely Haru didn't intend to starve himself, right? They both of them were unhappy with the state of affairs, but they were duty-bound to see this treaty held. Rin didn't miss the dead-of-night watches, mistaking every ghostly cresting wave for a Mer sentry and wondering if he ought to sound the alarm or risk looking a fool jumping at shadows, and whatever Haru had been before, he probably didn't miss it much either. Haru wouldn't kill himself, wouldn't let himself _die_ just to spite Rin and spark _more_ war. He was difficult; not stupid. And probably very hungry, which wouldn't be helping his attitude.

Rin shifted first onto his knees, then back onto his feet to stand, shaking the water from his toes as he padded over to the bucket. Gingerly lifting it by the handle and holding it at arm's length, pinching his nose against the stench, he tugged a cord to summon an attendant, instructing the carcasses to be disposed of and live bait be carried in come morning. _Gulls_ would've turned their beaks up at the slop in the bucket; he could hardly blame Haru for choosing to go without rather than force himself to choke down the rank slop the attendants were providing him. He didn't like Haru, or any Mer for that matter, but he wasn't cruel—and maybe if the Syren had a full belly, he'd stop knocking things into the pool just to spite Rin or stretching their Bond near to breaking.

It was a metallic clatter that woke him the next morning, sending him bolting upright, hair sticking up in every direction and vision blurred with sleep. He glanced around warily, heart thudding loudly in his chest as he tried to bring the room into focus and wincing at the morning sunlight streaming in. Long, warm beams lit up the steps leading down into the pool, and the water lapped cheerily against the stucco and tiles, evidence of recent activity. He wandered over on unsteady legs, still trying to get his bearings about himself—and found what had roused him so early: the brass fish pail, tipped over on its side and most of the bait now spilled into the water, darting for cover when his shadow passed over the surface. Haru's work, yet again.

Grumbling to himself, he stomped down the steps, squatting to right the bucket. "Serves me right," he huffed with irritation, then shot a glance around the pool, ready to deliver another thorough tongue-lashing. "Hey, I was _trying_ to be nice, you know—you could show some fucking grati—"

But his words died on his lips when he locked eyes with Haru, hugging the far wall as usual but now with a shimmering silver slip of a tail hanging from his lips—which quickly disappeared into his mouth with a final inelegant slurp as he swallowed the rest of the fish whole. Rin glanced down into the bucket—a half-dozen wriggling sardine fry had missed their chance to escape—then back up at Haru, who was eyeing him with a look that said he very much wanted Rin to leave so he could take care of the survivors. He fought a pleased grin that wanted to quirk up his lips, snorting, "...It's easier to catch them if you keep them _in_ the bucket, you know." He cocked his head, wondering, "Or I dunno, maybe you like the thrill of the hunt...?" From what he knew, the Mer caught their food in much the same way humans did: with nets and harpoons. But he'd been ripped open on more than one occasion by the wicked claws tipping Mer fingers, so he was well aware that if Haru wanted to just snatch one of the fry out of the water, he was perfectly capable. It'd certainly be an entertaining way of passing the time.

When he snorted to himself at this image, Haru's frown deepened, and Rin held his hands up, "Fine, fine...I'll leave you to it." He shifted upright, stretching tall to work the kinks from his back, and brushed imaginary dust from his sleep tunic, twirling on one foot to march to his wardrobe and dress for the day. "If there's any kind of fish you prefer, though..." He threw a glance over his shoulder, lifting a brow, "I guess you'll have to work up the courage to finally speak to me."

At this, Haru actually opened his mouth—but before anything came out, he quickly thought better of it and buttoned up again, which only sent a thrill of accomplishment through Rin. He probably suspected Rin would purposefully deprive him of his favorite food if he came out with it, and Rin didn't blame him; he had half a mind to do just that.

But something...nagged. Somehow the thought of drawing Haru out of his figurative shell seemed like more fun than tormenting him. Being stuck here with only each other for company was torture enough, and Rin didn't get off on making others miserable. There was purposefully annoying each other...and then there was being downright cruel. And who knew; maybe if they could come to some accord, he could convince Haru to hop in that cart-drawn bucket so Rin could see more of this compound than the master bedroom.

* * *

As he'd heard it explained at the Ceremony, the Bond was supposed to ensure mates stuck together for the duration of a Mer gestation, a biological relic from a more primitive time in the creatures' history, helping to ensure if not monogamy, then at least that pairs would care for one another in the vulnerable months leading up to the birth of offspring. Magick or nature, they'd never specified—and Rin had never thought to ask, but it still meant that Rin couldn't travel outside of a certain perimeter (nor could Haru, though the very fact that he was essentially trapped in a pool was enough to keep him in place) without inflicting agony on the both of them.

Which brought him here, to the steps of the pool—only the topmost, mind you, as any lower and Haru would bolt, grabbing what fish he could in one hand and shooting for the other side of the room with a great _whap_ of his tail against the surface. It wasn't, Rin suspected, that he _feared_ Rin. Simply that he valued his space and privacy, and given that both were hard to come by in their situation, Haru understandably held fast to what he could.

So Rin let him have his imagined space and instead crouched on the topmost steps and watched Haru enjoy his morning repast. He could have dragged one of the floor cushions over, or rearranged the writing desk for more comfort, but he found himself too mesmerized to move.

It was just, he'd never really _seen_ a Syren up close like this before. Never stopped to look at one, that is. Not that he'd ever really had opportunity; it was hard to focus on more than moonlight glinting off of blades and Merrauder bodies slick with seawater and glittering scales charging against him when they were trying to slam him and his men overboard so that their comrades waiting in the swells below could drag them down to watery graves. He had a bright white line of scars on his left shoulder where one had raked him as he tore himself free from its grip that still twinged in panicked warning whenever he caught Haru out of the corner of his eye, unable to entirely shake the instinct that he ought to be reaching for the nearest curved blade to slice the Syren from stem to stern and make a break for it.

He cocked his head to the side and watched one wriggling fry after another slide into Haru's gullet, his throat bobbing appreciatively as he swallowed. Like this, one could _almost_ see him as human. Indeed, Mer had been mistaken as such by bathers and waders on occasion—and just like Rin's people who populated the shores and inland vistas, they had their own culture and language, albeit one as foreign to Rin as if they’d come from the moon and not the deeps only a few strokes’ swim from the Sultanate’s gleaming shores.

They lived their lives under the waves, though, rarely poking their heads above the surface unless it was to stage an assault on a trawler or mercantile ship attempting to pass through "their" straits, as they liked to think them. He wondered if their peoples hadn't been one, long ago; after all, the Mer-men that captured prisoners eventually became often passed for human unless one took a good long look in their eyes, where the seas never quite calmed. It suggested some common ancestry.

"...Nah; I could never accept being distantly related to someone who loves _fish_ that much," Rin mused aloud, and Haru cut him a confused glare, drifting back with a slow swipe of his tail and finishing the rest of his morning meal by shoving a handful of fry into his mouth. Rin's brows pulled together in bemusement, "What? I'll take a piping hot glazed lamb kebob over a skinny little raw sardine any day of the week. And you would too, if you'd ever tried one." Haru's features twisted into a grimace of disgust, and Rin snorted, wondering if Haru even knew what a lamb kebob _was._ "Heathen."

Haru viciously bit the head off of his last fry and tossed the rest at Rin, causing him to flinch as bits of fish pelted his face. "Hey—watch it!" The carcass flopped to the tile, oozing viscous fluids, and Rin frowned down at it. "Well you _are_ a heathen." He waved a hand. "You sit in the pool all day, won't even come out to stretch your legs or—or have a proper conversation at least." Perhaps the legs remark was moot, but the conversation thing was still irritating. He was growing tired of talking to himself, and while he'd on occasion tried to flaunt his apparent freedom by jogging around the room or inviting servants in to chat, he'd only wound up tiring himself out and making the help feel uncomfortable, so he'd given up in the end. Watching Haru was like watching whitewash dry, but at least he was pleasant to look at, if not much for company. If he let his attention drift just far enough, he could forget that he was looking at a Syren and just appreciate the sight—dark hair waving like a kelp forest, scales glinting in shades a peacock would envy, wickedly curved nails juxtaposed against long, delicate fingers, and a frosty gaze that sent a welcome chill down Rin's spine against the approaching summer heat.

He’d even tried carrying conversation himself, once spending a whole afternoon delivering a scathing review of a rather racy piece of fiction one of the attendants had smuggled in—mostly because, he maintained, if you were going to write, then you ought to put some _effort_ into it. None of these _heaving bosoms_ or _turgid members_. "I mean, I don't even understand why the author felt they needed to shoehorn this sort of scene into the story in the first place; couldn't they just _talk_? Couldn't she join him on one of his evening watches, sharing a few quiet moments under the moonlight? Or perhaps let him relax in a warm bath with fragrant incense burning while she rubbed his shoulders with oil?" Now he was on a roll. "Or dinner together, with a hundred candles spread around the room—tall, short, fat, thin, no two alike, flickering and mutable, ultimately transient...like life, like their love..." He caught Haru staring at him, blue eyes peeking up over the lip of the pool to gaze at Rin where he sat splayed out on one of the great floor cushions, and he raised a brow in challenge: "Romantic, right? I ought to write some of this drivel myself."

Haru just settled back down, blowing indignant raspberries in the water. Which was nothing new—but for a moment there, he'd had Haru's undivided attention...and that somehow didn't feel as burdensome as he'd thought it might.

* * *

"...Rin."

He jerked awake in a great motion, kicking savagely at the hand that gripped his ankle and reaching in a whirling twist for a nonexistent knife on a belt he wasn't wearing, his light sea gear having long since been traded for the bulkier tunics and shawls that befit his new "station". His heart was in his throat as he scrambled away, and he nearly slipped to crack his head open on the water-slick tile. " _Fuck_ —that's... _shit_..." His breathing came in panicked pants, and he clutched at the fabric over his chest as he stared at what had roused him: Haru, one hand still raised tentatively, with eyes wide and wary as they both waited for everything to settle back into some semblance of order. "Ha...ru?"

And for once, Haru didn't grimace or flinch at the sound of the pet name on Rin's lips, though his brows did draw together, and he looked tense, like an arrow nocked on a bow, ready to snap at a moment's notice.

Rin swallowed thickly, willing his pulse to stop racing. "Did...you...?" He twisted around to crawl forward on hands and knees, with little care to how he looked right now—because _shit_ , Haru had _spoken_. After three weeks now of _nothing_ , not so much as a 'screw you,' he'd finally _cracked_ him, finally heard—

"...You'll catch a chill if you fall asleep there."

The words were solid, no stuttering or faltering, though the canter had a bit of a musical lilt to it, and his tone...it held an even, burring melody like the singing bowls the priestesses worshiped with at the temples. There was life, but little spark, and even Rin had heard enough Lorelei and Trade alike from the Mer ambassadors to recognize that this was unusual. He filed the knowledge away for the time being, though, and rearranged himself, smoothing out his robes and shifting onto tottering feet. His legs had cramped, and his toes were chilled from dangling in the water. He didn't remember falling asleep, but the sun had clearly been down for some time now, and the evenings still carried a nip in the air. Haru had been right to wake him, even if he'd scared the shit out of him in the process, and now he probably looked a fool—and just like that, the thrill of having finally wrangled speech from Haru was doused in cold water and replaced with shame.

He schooled his features and jutted his chin forward. "...Don't grab me like that. I'm liable to break your windpipe without thinking next time. It's tempting death to sneak up on a soldier unawares."

Haru's hand slid back below the surface, though not before clenching into a fist, and he hardened his gaze, slipping back from the wall. "Then don't dangle your toes in my pool."

This flushed away the shame and brought up a surge of challenge. "It's not _your_ pool; it's as much mine as yours. I could go swimming right now if I wanted to." Haru didn't respond to this, but the way his face fell into shadow with the moon rising behind him and the cat-like glint his eyes took on stilled Rin's tongue from any further goading. He licked his lips and took another step back, lest Haru get any ideas, before turning on his heel and marching for the wardrobe to change into a sleep tunic.

It had shaken him, that was all; the thrill of finally drawing _speech_ out of his silent roommate had been overshadowed by the reminder that this wasn't _just_ a roommate—he was Mer, a Syren, a creature of raw instinct and power who could probably tear Rin limb from limb if he wanted (or if fishwives' tales were to be believed, even if he didn't, under certain circumstances). Only a scrap of parchment and scribbles of ink kept him from crawling out of the pool in the dead of night and slitting Rin's throat with one of those handsome whalebone blades just to have the last word in this ridiculous arrangement.

He cast a wary glance back at the pool before tugging his robes up and over his head; shallow waves marked motion just below the surface as Haru tracked a lap around the edge of the pool. It was unnerving when he did that; he reminded Rin of a lion pacing its cage, knowing it couldn't escape but still compelled to check every nook and cranny, just in case. That's what Haru was now—a wild creature, trapped in a gilded cage just like Rin, bound by duty not to move from this spot for another eleven months, until they were finally released...to what? What would he do now? What had Haru been, during the war? What would he be after it?

The clatter of the fish pail being nearly upended woke him the next morning, as it often did these days; the attendants tended to leave the bucket just out of Haru's reach, likely terrified they'd be dragged into the water if they drew any nearer, and the Syren could often be found stretching and straining to wrap fingers around the thin metal handle to drag it closer. This morning, he was nearly half out of the water, weight resting on one elbow on the lowest step as he groped for the handle with his free hand, fingers falling just out of reach.

Rin yawned and ran a hand through his locks to rearrange them into an attractive tousle, slinking over the chilly tiles and taking in the sight with no small amount of bemusement. A particularly obvious snort at Haru's expense drew an irritated glare his way, and he shrugged, "Why don't you just climb out and fetch the bucket properly? You'll strain a muscle like that." The previous evening's awkwardness momentarily forgotten, he bent down to snatch up the pail, descending the steps as he went and settling on the lowest one, knees drawn to his chest, as he snatched up a wriggling fry and held it by the tail above Haru's head. "Here, say _ah_."

Haru's wary confusion regarding Rin's motives now melted into unguarded offense. "...I'm not your _pet_."

A good night’s sleep had Rin in a better mood this morning, and he let the snap pass. “Mm, so I _didn't_ imagine you finally speaking to me."

"I wasn't speaking then—I was _warning_ you."

"And now?"

"Now..." He struggled visibly for a retort before muttering, "Never mind," and taking a gulp of air, preparing to submerge himself again.

Rin scrambled forward, almost tipping the bucket over, "Wait—wait, dammit! Sorry, sorry!" He nearly bit his tongue off as the sound of his own whining echoed in his ears; this was almost as pathetic as last evening. "Stop—stay. I wasn't...trying to drive you off. Here." He tapped the bucket nearer, dropping the little fish back inside as he stood again. "Enjoy."

He had one foot on the top-most step before a hesitant, "...Before, you said..." halted him. He twisted to glance over his shoulder, finding Haru back hugging the wall of the bottom step. His fingers gripped the ledge, and he peered up warily. "You said...if there was any kind of fish I preferred, then…”

He wanted to laugh; _that_ was why Haru had finally spoken to him? Because he'd said if he wanted a certain type of fish brought in for his meals, he'd have to ask for it vocally? He didn't know why he found that _hilarious_ and not the least bit disappointing, but he did, all the same. He crossed his arms over his chest and settled down on the step, wincing as the chill of the tile bit into his skin, legs bare under the sleep tunic he still wore. "Tuna? Cod? Fluke? Or something fancy, like an urchin or something?" He cocked his head to the side, spirits inexplicably light at the prospect of progress that didn’t come at the expense of his pride. "Well?"

Haru's lips pursed and his gaze slid to the side, and Rin wondered if the expression meant the same sort of nervous hesitation in Mer culture as it did to humans. "I don't...know what it's called. In Trade."

Rin’s lips formed an _o_ of understanding, and he nodded. “That makes things difficult… Though maybe there’s a Mer-Trade dictionary in the library? I can have—” But Haru was shaking his head, glancing over at the writing desk with barely concealed hope.

“If…you have charcoal?”

“Charcoal? You mean—something to write with?” The nod he received in return looked curiously human from a creature for whom such body language was likely foreign, and he padded over to the writing desk, shifting books around until he found a stylus and inkwell—before replacing the utensils for something more primitive, unsure if Haru would be able to use them effectively. “Parchment too?” He didn’t wait for a response, digging out a scrap of stationery he’d meant to use to write his sister. Gou would probably just scold him for complaining, reminding him it was a sacrifice for peace and that a year tethered to a Syren was small price to pay, so he’d put off any contact altogether. If she cared how he was doing, _she_ could write _him_.

He shuffled back to the side of the pool, laying the stationery out flat on the tile and holding the charcoal nib out for Haru to take. He floated over, one hand heaving himself up to balance on the edge of the pool while he took the nib with the other, marveling at the reed stylus holding the delicate nib in place. Rin marked the way his eyes flared a hair, measuring the heft of the instrument in one webbed palm as he tried to manipulate his fingers to hold it correctly. “Just—brace your fingers along the shaft. There.” He nodded as Haru managed to get the hang of it surprisingly quickly—then watched as he went to work.

In only a few moments, Haru had sketched a crude but clearly legible outline of a fish, taking care to fill in the coloring with gentle shading and striping until it became obvious he was drawing—“A mackerel?”

Haru glanced up, brows raised, then tilted his head in confusion. “I…I don’t know. Is it?”

Rin reached forward to turn the parchment around so he could get a better look at it. “I’m no fisherman, but I’ve helped see fishing vessels safely through the channel.” He held off making any remarks here about the details involved in protecting those ships, walking on eggshells to avoid disturbing the momentary truce. “I’m pretty sure that’s a mackerel. You want that?”

Haru opened his mouth to speak, then pursed his lips, thinking better of it. “I…I would sing them here myself…but mature, they’re too large to fit through…”

“Too large…?” He peered out over the pool, then out the tall windows that overlooked the… “This pool, it links to the ocean?” He’d suspected there must be pipes or drains letting fresh water in, or the pool would likely have quickly become as algae-ridden and murky as any untended fountain in the city.

“They wouldn’t fit,” Haru repeated with some irritation, not really answering the question. “So?”

The tone said he’d strained himself more than he was comfortable, clearly not liking having to ask Rin for this favor, and after quashing the ache to crow his victory and perhaps force a bit more groveling from the Syren, Rin allowed, “…I’ll ask. I can’t make any promises, though.” He jerked his chin toward the bucket. “You don’t like the sardines that much?”

Haru wrinkled his nose. “I don’t have to know what those kebob-things of yours are to be sure they must taste better than sardines.”

Rin snorted easily, snatching up the parchment and charcoal nib to return them to his desk—before changing his mind and placing them back down within easy reach. “…I’m going to take a bath. I’ll have the attendants scrounge up some mackerel by tomorrow at the latest.” Before he slipped around the divider into the bathing area, he stole a glance back toward the pool—and didn’t bother suppressing a grin of satisfaction when he spotted Haru reaching for the nib again.

* * *

The mackerel were a fair bit bulkier than the tiny sardines Haru had been dining on thus far, so instead of swallowing them whole, their bony carcasses were tossed into a trash pail, likely destined to be gnawed on by the cats that prowled the barn out back. It had taken some wheedling, as the attendants were less than eager to go through so much trouble for a Syren, but Rin had started on about fostering goodwill between nations and insinuated with a tap to his temple that if Haru wasn’t kept comfortable, he could easily make life more difficult for Rin. Whether this was true or not, Rin hadn’t a clue, but the attendant had paled and darted off, nearly snapping himself in half at the waist as he vowed to return with all haste.

For his part, Haru did seem to be more at ease, if not exactly _happy_ , though Rin strongly suspected he was never a happy sort. He seemed dull, in all honesty—blunt and straightforward and without an adventurous bone in his scaly body. Rin had tried with growing insistence to coax him out of the water, offering to forgive him for knocking the chess board into the pool and suggesting they start again or to join him for a meal (mackerel-centric, of course) at the top of the steps. He’d even invited Haru to leave the pool and come soak in the spacious bath with its fragrant soaps and coal-heated taps, sure the Syren had never experienced anything like it. But each time he was met with only a sharp jerk of the head, never any explanation for his reluctance.

“It’s just a _tub_ ,” Rin groaned, frustration coming to a head, “You’re not gonna dry out in a _tub_ —the entire point is to be wet! Besides, if anything happened to you, I’d have your entire Junta raining down vengeance on both me _and_ my people. I’m not stupid, and this isn’t some— _scheme_.”

Haru ignored him, turning his back to Rin before he was even done speaking and ducking under the surface, swimming shallow laps around the pool’s edge. Rin watched him go, frown sour, before muttering, “Fine, have it your way,” and loosened the tie holding up his trousers before shucking the bottoms altogether. He tossed them to the side and then yanked his tunic up and over his head, one-handed, and announced with a cocky boast, “If you won’t come to me, I’ll just go to you.”

It was his pool too, after all, as he’d made clear; he was damn well going to _swim_ in it. The days were getting longer, and the sun’s baking rays had warmed the water nicely, he’d noticed; in the blessed shade of the compound, there was no particular drive to indulge in an afternoon swim, but some boyish part of him still missed the carefree days when he’d raced friends to chosen markers on the bay. The pool was big enough—so why should Haru be the only one who got to enjoy it?

He scanned the surface, trying to gauge where his entry point ought to be—he didn’t want to snap his neck hitting the bottom on too sharp a dive, after all—when a sharp gasp and, “Wh—what do you think you’re doing?!” froze him where he stood.

He drummed his toes on the bottom-most step, crossing his arms over his bare chest to stretch the muscles. “Considering going for a swim, what’s it look like?” And before Haru could mount any further sputtered protests at the audacity, he took in a gulp of air and dove, sliding through the surface in a wash of bubbles and spray. He paddled awkwardly until his vision cleared, glancing about to get his bearings before shooting back to the surface. He inhaled deeply and wiped his face, slicking back his hair. “I told you, this pool’s as much mine as yours.”

“Get out,” came a voice from just behind, and a sharp shove sent him scrambling to turn around. “You keep to your area and I’ll keep to mine.”

“What if I don’t wanna keep to mine?” Haru’s cheeks flushed dark with anger, and he whipped his head around, assessing the situation, before charging for the steps.

With both hands braced against the bottom-most step, he called out over his shoulder with dark threat, “If you don’t get out of my pool this instant, I’ll—I’ll traipse around your room and make a mess of things.”

“Really now?” He couldn’t help the challenging leer in his tone.

“Don’t test me!” As if to press his point, he heaved himself up and out of the water, flopping inelegantly onto what must have passed for his ass, clearly intending this as a grave threat. “…I’ll knock things off your desk. I’ll muss your bedsheets—”

Rin snorted at this, grin going loopy as he stroked lazily through the water toward the pool’s edge. “Big deal; the maids will just assume we’ve finally put the bed to some proper use.” He wondered if the suggestion would go over Haru’s head; how did Mer mate anyway?

“Get _out_ ,” he tried again, fists clenching. “I’ll do it!”

Rin slipped back from the wall, treading water to get a better look at the sight before him—Haru was making pompous threats, but he was clearly agitated, and not _just_ because Rin had decided to invade his space. Deciding to test a theory, he prodded, “…So go on. Do it.” He jerked his chin to the writing desk. “There’s a half-finished letter for Gou I’d meant to send off yesterday; ruin my day’s work, if you dare.”

He would have wagered a year’s earnings that Haru wouldn’t leave his pool except perhaps on pain of death—not given the expression on his face. It was curious; Mer were known to be capable of taking on more or less human shapes—two legs, the expected bits and bobs between them, and webbed toes that still did the job well enough. Perhaps he really _was_ paranoid about Rin trussing him up and leaving him to wither into a dried-out, brainless husk like so many of his countrymen?

Or maybe, he pondered, noting how Haru didn’t seem so much averse to being out of the water as he did being seen with two legs—maybe he just sucked at walking. “…Can you not walk?”

“What?” Haru’s voice carried a nervous quaver, and he frowned to show that it wasn’t that he hadn’t heard the question—only that he couldn’t believe it’d been posed in the first place.

“I asked you if you could walk.” He waved in the general direction of Haru’s lower half. “Or can you not even shift?” Was it something only certain members of their society could do? Was it a learned skill?

This seemed to bruise Haru’s pride, for he huffed, “I’m perfectly capable.”

“So do it.”

He pursed his lips, wavered for a moment, then muttered something under his breath and slipped back into the water. He dunked himself to rehydrate, then smoothed the hair from his eyes and glared at Rin. “…Get out,” he tried one last time, having exhausted all other means of removing Rin from the pool.

Rin finally humored him, though, taking pity on how agitated he seemed to be by the intrusion. “…I get that you want your space—you’ve got little enough as-is. But I’m not getting out, not until I’ve had a good swim. And I’m gonna come back tomorrow. And the day after that. Not because I want to piss you off, believe it or not, but because I’m bored out of my skull, the water feels great, and because you need to get the stick out of your ass.” Haru’s brows drew together in confusion, the idiom obviously not translating. “I’m gonna swim with you, and you’re gonna like it. Because I pretty much always get what I want.”

Haru would probably take that as a challenge, which suited Rin just fine. He’d sulk and cut Rin angry glares, in all likelihood, but he would soon come to accept that Rin would do as he pleased, and hopefully somewhere along the way he’d learn to relax a little, too. He was only as pissed as he was now because Rin was no longer having as miserable a time in their current situation as he’d been before. Misery loved company, after all, and now Haru was the only one still wallowing in despair.

He made good on his ‘threat’, waking himself in the mornings with a bracing series of laps along the length of the pool to keep himself conditioned. He still hadn’t the faintest clue what he’d be doing once the year was up (just nine more months to go…), but being physically fit meant he could hold most any job, from hired security to dockside worker.

Haru gave him a wide berth during his exercise, watching him with dark, wary eyes that left no confusion as to whether or not he’d finally come around to accepting that Rin would be sharing the pool with him. On a few occasions, Rin had tried wheedling a race out of him, even at one point offering to let him have the pool to himself for a whole day if he beat Rin from one side to the other, but Haru had just blown bubbles at him and sunk to the bottom, doodling in the warm sand coating the pool’s floor.

Rin could’ve put up with the attitude, but with the cold shoulder came tightly zipped lips, and Rin found himself once again shut out wholly, regarded with disdain and irritation. It was like those first few weeks all over, and even the freedom to use the pool without fearing that Haru would sneak up and drag him under could not temper the flaring irritation that welled up whenever he met eyes with Haru these days. Had he realized sooner how Haru would dig in his figurative heels on this matter, Rin might have changed tacks, but breaking now would prove him week, so stubbornness kept him coming back, day after day, and keeping his conversation more often to himself.

It seemed any progress they’d made had been washed away like sea foam, and was just as meaningless. They didn’t need to get along, they didn’t need to be _friends_ —they just needed to stick to their areas. That was how their peoples would work, after all; the Sultanate would have her land and the open waters, and the Mer would have the Laurel’s calmer bay to fish as they pleased. Separation, no mingling. Peace, through tolerance.

* * *

Or that had been the assumption, at least.

“ _Hng…!_ ”

Rin winced, the throbbing pain in his palm when the knife neatly bit into him as he tried to get a grip on the blade aiming for his chest compounded by Haru’s sharp, “ _RIN!_ ” ringing in his ear was almost unbearable. He rolled to the side and curled into a ball, releasing his hold on the whalebone knife—that was a Mer blade, that was a _fucking Mer blade_ someone had just tried to gut him with—as his assailant slammed it into the mattress.

It was night—dead of night, a moonless one too—and Rin was about to be _assassinated_. Before this moment, Rin might have laughed at the notion he’d find himself flat on his back, a brick-wall of a man on top of his chest and trying to force a blade through it while Haru screamed his name and scrambled out of the pool, hastily formed legs wobbling unsteadily beneath him as he charged to Rin’s rescue. Any _part_ of that scene, really, merited a nice, hearty belly laugh.

But he was here, all the same, about to be slit open like a fish on a butcher’s block.

Assassinations were for royalty, for people that _mattered_. This whole setup was a farce, nothing more than a way for their peoples to smile and nod, grins glittering with hidden knives as they grudgingly accepted a treaty. He was a _distraction_ —no one of import. So why he was here, rolling off the mattress and onto the floor and cradling his injured hand to his chest as he screamed for a guard, was beyond him in all honesty.

Haru had found his legs—both literally and figuratively—and was capitalizing on having caught Rin’s assailant off-guard, shoving and scratching and kicking but not really doing much damage. He narrowly missed getting slit open as the man slashed wildly to drive him off, and his feet squelched loudly on the tile. Rin scrambled to his knees, snapping at him to get out of the way—really, what did he think he could do, unarmed and buck naked?

He stripped the top sheet from his bed in one smooth movement, tossing it over the man’s head and using the confusion created as he flailed to kick him in the side, sending him staggering off-balance. Haru grabbed the man’s wrist before he toppled, digging a claw into a pressure point and causing him to drop the knife as he hit the tile hard. When the guard finally arrived, several long moments later, they found Rin and Haru sitting calmly side by side on their assailant’s back to keep him pinned.

The pitifully small troupe of three guards took one look a the whalebone blade and immediately turned their own weapons on Haru, stalking forward with murder in their eyes, but Rin leaped to his feet, defense ready on his tongue. “I think I’ve still got wits enough about me to recognize my murderer when he’s right in front of my eyes, gentlemen. The cur brought the blade with him, and the Syren helped me fend him off.” He gave a sniff, catching a strong whiff of alcohol. “No thanks to you.”

It was difficult to tell in the lantern light if the flush to the guards’ faces had more to do with offense at being caught away from their posts or if it was simply from the drink, but they made their hasty apologies and proceeded to manhandle their prisoner out into the hall, taking a statement from Rin—without so much as a glance at Haru—and posting an additional pair of guards roused from their bed just outside the chamber.

Their quarters were bustling with activity until the gray of dawn began to encroach, and it was only just as the sun was peeking over the horizon and throwing its long rays across the tile floor that Rin finally managed to rustle any stragglers out, demanding to be informed as soon as their attacker’s interrogation was complete. He’d lost an entire night’s sleep and was likely months away from regaining full use of his hand. At least it hadn’t been his dominant one, he smirked silently to himself.

Somewhere along the way, Haru had slipped back over to the pool—though instead of diving in, as Rin had expected, he sat at the edge hugging the steps, still sporting a pair of legs that he let dangle in the water. His hair was mostly dry by now—the first time Rin had ever seen it so—and the patches of scales that covered his shoulder, collarbone, cheeks had lost some of their luster. “…You should get back in,” he warned, swallowing a yawn as he sauntered over and settled down beside him.

Haru just shrugged, another habit he’d picked up from Rin. “I’ll be fine, as long as I don’t desiccate fully.” He pointed to his toes and kicked up a spray for show, and Rin snorted.

“If I’d known all I had to do to get you out and walking around was nearly get killed, I’d have asked them to bring me a length of rope.” Haru frowned, likely not understanding the reference but divining from Rin’s tone that the humor was black. “…Thanks.”

He had the good graces not to ask _for what?_ “…It would’ve ruined the treaty, you dying by a Mer blade.”

“That was probably the idea.” Rin grimaced. “Make me a martyr, and suddenly they’ve got an excuse to wipe out the Mer settlement altogether. The populace would’ve called it slaughter, before—but this way they could frame it as vengeance.”

“‘They’?”

Rin shrugged. “There’s always a ‘they’. Someone not happy with the terms of the treaty—or that there was a treaty _period_. Plenty of people made their living off of the strife between the Sultanate and the Mer.” _Myself included_ , he didn’t add. He stretched his hand out, wincing at the pain not dulled much despite the poultice the healer had applied. “Think you could’ve let him get a few more slices on me before charging to my rescue?” he huffed sardonically.

“You’re right; that would’ve been more convincing for our respective councils.”

Rin eyed him for a moment, not entirely sure if he was serious or joking, before directing his gaze out over the water. The morning sun was rising grandly now, and the ripples over the surface glinted blindingly. “…You realize this is the longest conversation we’ve had in three weeks?” Haru didn’t respond, which was nothing new, especially given the reason for their awkward stalemate. He sighed to himself and began gently massaging the thick bandage covering his palm. “Guess this means no swimming for the foreseeable future…”

Haru’s tone held gentle barbs: “I thought you always got what you wanted.”

Rin allowed a pained smile and rubbed at his eyes. “Healer’s orders, for one; and getting what I want doesn’t seem to be worth the trouble this time…” He’d have to find some other way to keep active; the swimming had been enjoyable, but not sufficiently so to replace the comfortable back and forth he’d developed with Haru for a while there. “You can have your pool back; I’ll stick to my side of the room, like you asked.” In a demonstration of his commitment to the cause, he shifted to stand, taking care not to rest any weight on his injured hand. The healer had left a powder meant to be mixed into a draught that would knock him out for at least another few hours, and perhaps when he roused again, the pain would have lessened.

“You…you really did…just want to swim?”

The words came out hesitant, light with innocent curiosity that betrayed his shock, and Rin froze. After all this time, Haru had _genuinely_ not known—or not trusted at least—that Rin had moved beyond petty efforts to rile him up and simply sought an enjoyable way to pass the time. Rin hid his relief at finally having broken through the distrust with a haughty, “Of course; I’m pretty good at it, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“Debatable.” When Rin cut him a glare to see just how serious he was being with that remark, he found Haru’s gaze fixed elsewhere, patently avoiding eye contact. "...As long as you don't disturb me..." He hazarded, faltering as he seemed to work himself up to continue. "...Then I suppose it's fine."

It was _their_ pool; Rin could have continued swimming as he pleased, and the treaty wouldn't suffer. He was free to use the pool however often he liked, just as Haru was free to roam their room as he liked. Indeed, the whole _compound_ was theirs to wander at will, should Haru ever want to try (he wouldn't, but that was beside the point).

And yet, it felt better, knowing that he had Haru's blessing, even if he wouldn't be able to capitalize on it for another few weeks. They still had months to go in their sentence, after all; there would be time aplenty to enjoy these waters together.

* * *

Haru finally speaking to him again made the weeks of recovery flit by as they engaged in proper conversation for the first time, their mutual walls having been lowered a hair, just enough that they could catch glimpses of who the other was. For instance, Rin understood now that Haru loved the meat of mackerel most but was partial to cod roe, knew that like most Mer, Haru wasn't terribly close with his parents now that he was mature (though he never seemed to tire of listening to Rin rant about his sister—perhaps because it was such a foreign concept), and had learned that—counting his rescue attempt—Haru had shifted a grand total of three times in his life.

"I'm terrible at it—walking." He made a face and shuddered. "I feel so awkward..."

"You just need practice," Rin reasoned as he carefully peeled an apple, popping a grape into his mouth when he couldn't stifle the urge for something sweet. "Even humans wobble and toddle when they're first getting started."

"Why would I practice? I'm not going to do it again."

Rin hid the little stab of offense that Haru would never leave the pool again behind a goading, "Not even if my life were in danger?"

"As I understand it, you've a small army guarding you now. If enough of them are bribed to turn a blind eye to another attempt on your life, I'm under no impression that I'd be able to help, legs or no."

Rin snorted but nodded his understanding, carving off the last of the peel before slicing the naked apple in half and offering a piece to Haru. "You don't know what you're missing; walks on the beach, the sand squelching between your toes—" Haru's grimace turned even more sour. "What? It feels good!"

He gingerly took the apple, giving it an experimental sniff before nibbling along an edge. "It sounds uncomfortable."

"Don't knock it 'til you've tried it."

"I'll pass."

Rin cocked his head. "Not very adventurous, are you?"

Haru's nibbles turned into proper bites as he discovered the apple was not only not poisoned but actually quite refreshing. "I don't want to have adventures. I just...want peace." And Rin understood he wasn't really referring to _peace_ in the sense of war and fighting; he just wanted _comfort_. He wanted not to be disturbed, to have his space to himself, to never be pushed or prodded or poked. He wanted _complacency_ —and Rin couldn't comprehend it at all, but he let it go for the time being.

Jerking his chin at the apple Haru was halfway through now, he changed the subject: "Good, right? I figured since there aren't many orchards near the water, you'd probably never tasted it."

"I hadn't," was the response, skillfully dodging any appeal for acknowledgement that Rin had been right to suggest he try something new. That was a dangerous slope for all involved, and Haru was understandably wary.

Rin bit into his own half with a loud crunch. "See what you might have missed if you didn't 'go on an adventure'?"

"Trying a new food isn't an adventure; you were more in danger of impaling yourself on that paring knife with your hand in the state it is. You did a horrible job of it, by the way; look at all of the flesh still on the rind..." He gestured to the tray, and Rin glanced over, frowning when he realized Haru was right.

"I'm a recovering invalid here! Besides, I suppose _you_ could do better?"

"I could." Rin rolled his eyes, and Haru took this for the insult it was. "I'd wager I'm more skilled with a knife than you are in the water. If you're still trying to claim any skill at swimming, that is."

And that _did it_. Rin felt his cheeks heat, largely with frustration that with his hand still healing, he was another week or more away from being able to prove Haru wrong with regards to his swimming ability. "You're lucky the healer's ordered the guards not to let me do more than dangle my toes in the water for another fortnight. Or I'd kick your tail."

"I don't doubt you'd try."

" _You_ —" But he cut himself off, brows crinkling as amused realization dawned. "...Are you challenging me to a _race_? Mr. 'as long as you don't disturb me'?"

Haru's lips thinned into a line, and he glanced to the side, huffing irritatedly, "Absolutely not." He flicked an imaginary piece of debris from the surface, sending droplets glittering over the surface, and muttered, "...But I could be convinced to accept _your_ challenge. Foolhardy as it is."

Rin's veins were thrumming with the excitement of cresting another hurdle, and he ignored the barbed insult as he leaned forward, eyes bright. "And how might I go about convincing you to join me in a swim once I'm healed enough to get back in the water, O Swift and Mighty Syren?"

He expected something like _Stop calling me 'Haru'_ or _Double the number of mackerel brought in for meals_ —but what he got instead was: "...Can you have them bring me driftwood?"

* * *

The driftwood, it turned out, was for the other part of the challenge: the claim that Haru was better at carving than Rin was at swimming. Rin had forgotten that little challenge in the face of the assault on his athletic abilities, but when the attendants hauled in a litter of debris ranging from logs that looked like shipwreck flotsam to sticks and branches from beachfront forest, it all came back to him. He directed the material to be dragged close enough to the pool's edge for Haru to be able to rifle through the bits and bobs, and after they found themselves alone again, the attendants dismissed, Rin picked up one of the pieces and admired, "This one looks familiar..."

"It does?" Haru's tone was quizzical, which set Rin's lip to curling.

"Yup; looks just like the stick that's up your ass."

Haru frowned. "...I don't think that's physically possible. Or comfortable."

"Not a stick, no," Rin allowed, somehow amused when Haru didn't seem to get the reference. "Anyway, what do you need this stuff for?"

"I..." Haru started, then seemed to grow embarrassed, ashamed of his reasoning.

"What?" Rin prodded, curiosity mounting now; Haru seldom was this proactive, any requests having to be dragged out of him under normal circumstances. That he seemed to have some _plan_ for this driftwood left Rin a bit giddy.

"I...like it. Carving."

Rin blinked, then turned the shard of driftwood over in his hand again. "...Wait, you mean you _actually_ carve? Like, you weren't just saying that to try and one-up me?" He didn't care what the grin spreading over his lips made him look like; he glanced around, wondering if he'd have to have an attendant fetch a whittling knife too. "So what kind of stuff do you do?"

Haru shrugged as he picked through the pile of wood. "Whatever I feel like." He then bit his lip, clearly unsure about the propriety in asking his next question: "I...usually make do with rocks or shells, if I don't have any whalebone blades at hand, but..."

It likely wouldn't look good for either of them to be armed, and while a paring knife was easy enough to procure, proper carving utensils would be more difficult to come by. Rin held up a hand, keeping Haru from having to ask for what he clearly was not comfortable requesting, then rang for an attendant, asking to be brought a plate of cold meats and cheeses and a sharp knife to carve them with. When Haru raised a brow at his display of subterfuge, Rin brushed imaginary dust from his shoulders. "You get your knife, and I get an afternoon snack. This way we both win."

Once the attendant arrived with the requested items, Haru dove right into his work, having apparently already selected a piece of wood that Rin supposed looked somehow different from all of the _other_ hunks of wood on the litter. He dragged over one of the floor pillows and relaxed with his chilled meats and cheeses—which he now had to tear at with his teeth and bare hands like an animal, as Haru was busy with the knife—with the soft scratching and scraping of whittling in his ear. Haru had turned over onto his back and floated away into the center of his pool, looking like one of the sea otters common further north, and when he snorted at the mental image, Haru threw him a curious look, but didn't ask for an explanation. He realized he must have dozed off under the combined temptations of a full belly and warm summer afternoon, for when Haru prodded him awake, the sky was awash in the soft violets and blinding pinks of early evening. At some point, the attendants had come in to light the tapers, leaving the room lit in a comfortable glow, and Haru's eyes reflected the candlelight like a nightcat.

Rin stretched to work the kinks from his spine before sauntering over to the pool's edge, settling down to let his legs drape into the water. "Was I out long?"

"A few hours," Haru answered. "You do that often... Are you ill?"

"Ill? What—oh, the nap?" Haru cocked his head in confusion, seemingly unfamiliar with the term. "No—just sometimes I get tired, and it was warm and comfortable... Probably not the best idea, since I've probably thrown off my sleep schedule." He wondered for a moment how Syrens slept, but before he thought to ask, he caught a glimpse of something in Haru's hand and brightened. "Oh—you finished? Can I see?"

Haru glanced down at the item he held, following Rin's eyeline, then quickly clutched it close, instinctively hiding it from view. "I—I hadn't thought..."

"What, you weren't gonna let me see? After I went through all that trouble to get you the knife?"

Haru frowned. "You said it worked out for the both of us; I wasn't under the impression I would _owe_ you..."

Rin just rolled his eyes, having learned to sidestep Haru's bristling barbs of offense. "Relax; it's not a _have-to_ thing, I just want to see. Or was that just pomp and self-flattery before, claiming you could carve better than me?"

The frown was unmoved, but it waxed less irritated and more worried, and after a few moments' self-reflection, Haru must have decided it was worth the risk, for he held the item out for Rin to take. With all the care of handling one of the delicate glass sculptures blown by the artisans in the capitol, he took the little wooden figure from Haru's fingers and held it out to get a good look.

"It's...a fish? No, wait—a dolphin?" He squinted; the details were a bit difficult to make out, but the tail flukes parted like a whale's, and the beak was unmistakable. When he glanced over at Haru to see if he'd guessed right, he found him peeking almost shyly just over the edge of the pool, nodding.

"And—the tail..." Haru prompted, pointing. "I hollowed out a hole and placed a cache of pebbles in it, so it should float upright." He held out his hand to take it back, and Rin passed the figurine over. As Haru set it in the water, its tail sank with the weight of the pebbles buried in the wood, but only just below the waterline. Haru flicked the beak for show, and it wobbled back and forth a few times before settling upright again.

"Shit, Haru..." Rin marveled, grin gone goofy as he took in the amount of craftsmanship that had clearly gone into what amounted to a child's bath toy. "That's amazing—you did that in just a few hours?" Haru bobbed a nod.

"It wasn't all that difficult..."

"I sure as hell couldn't do it."

"That doesn't mean it was difficult." Rin took a half-hearted swipe at him for the comment, and Haru held an arm up to fend him off, scales flashing in the flickering candlelight. Rin caught his wrist before he could drop it again, and Haru froze so still that Rin wondered if he'd found a Mer pressure point of some sort.

  


He waited for permission, grip loose about Haru's wrist to show that he meant no harm or offense, and when Haru didn't tug his hand back, Rin turned his palm over, tracing the lines he found there with the intent of a palmreader. He followed the long fingers up to the delicate tapering points of the claws, the hooked curve all the weapon a Syren needed under the waves. If anyone thought keeping daggers out of Haru's grasp was ensuring Rin didn't get gutted in his sleep again, they were sorely mistaken.

Between each finger was a broad, thin band of webbing, translucent when held up against the candlelight. Rin could make out the shadow of Haru's face, watching him curiously, through the thin stretch of skin, and he brushed a finger over the delicate membrane, noting with some amusement the shudder that rippled through Haru's body as he did so, fingers twitching as he fought to keep from instinctively jerking his hand back. He was allowing this, consciously, and that meant something. A patch of tiny scales covered the skin at the base of his thumb, likely to assist in grasping. Here again, he brushed fingers over them—in all their time together, he'd never _touched_ Haru, and now he found himself bubbling over with curiosity at how he _felt_. These hands were so skilled—and at more than wielding a weapon, which was more than Rin could say—and were so like Rin's own at first glance, but every time he blinked, he found something new. Tearing claws instead of dull fingernails, sensitive webbing for pulling through difficult currents, and scales that shone like opal and were smooth as silk, not slimy like he'd expected.

Something brushed over a knuckle, and he nearly yelped in surprise when he realized it was just Haru, prying away one hand to conduct an examination of his own. Rin relaxed his grip, letting Haru have his hand back, and tried not to stare as Haru gently and gingerly pinched and prodded at his fingers, knuckles, palm, wrist, even the gauze covering his healing wound, clearly just as fascinated with Rin's rather drab, boring human hands as Rin had been with his. He was just about to remind Haru of this fact—that there was nothing interesting about his hands at all—when Haru exhaled softly, "The water misses you."

"The...what?" His brows drew together in bemusement, and he laughed, "The water misses me? Is that some Mer saying?"

Haru frowned to himself, shaking his head, "No, I meant—" but he cut himself off, swallowing whatever he was going to say—as a knock at the door announced the arrival of the evening meal. Haru immediately dropped his hand as if he'd been burned and floated back a good ways from the edge, placing ample space between himself and Rin, and while Rin would admit to feeling a bit lost at the sudden change in attitude and lack of any explanation as to what had just transpired, he decided to leave it for now. Haru liked to take things at his own pace, and Rin was steadily learning to navigate his moods like the troublesome swells of choppy waters.

* * *

Rin would never have used the phrase 'brimming with excitement' in reference to Haru, but describing him as such wouldn't have been too inaccurate the morning the healer finally announced that Rin didn't need to wear his gauze anymore, albeit with a strong recommendation to apply a poultice at night while he slept and not to strain the hand unduly. "And perhaps don't go grabbing at blades ungloved next time, hm?" Rin ducked a sheepish nod, and held his breath, only releasing it when the great oak door creaked shut as the healer departed. He stared at his palm, flexing it gently for show, then flicked his gaze toward the edge of the pool, where Haru could be seen just peeking up over the room, eyes unusually wide and bright as he waited with barely restrained patience.

Rin took another breath, taking his time straightening the desk he'd received the healer at—rearranging writing utensils, uncorking an ink bottle to check its level, paging through a stack of correspondences from his mother and sister—before a shower of spray following a loud, sharp _whap_ ruined any further such efforts. He wasn't soaked, but the ink was starting to bleed on the parchments now, and he sprang to his feet and whirled on Haru. "You know...I was _trying_ to put this off... Give you a chance to back out of it..." He began taking slow, sauntering steps toward the water's edge, unlacing his tunic and stripping it off as he went. "But I've changed my mind, since you seem intent on making a mess of our room."

Haru drummed his fingers at the pool's rim. "You were dragging your feet." Rin's brows rose, impressed with the turn of phrase he'd picked up. "I've a score to settle, and I'd as soon take care of it so I can get back to not being disturbed."

Rin nodded, biting back a smile as he shimmied out of his smallclothes before kicking them to the side. "Understandable. You'll need time alone to lick your wounds." Haru's frown was sharp and sour, but his eyes still sparkled with challenge, and Rin huffed a sharp laugh before slicking his hair back and diving in without warning.

Their pool had been dug deep and broad, and while it would never replace the freedom of an open ocean, it was at least no more confining than the room itself, and for the first time in nearly two full turns of the moon, Rin enjoyed the thrill of a brisk dip. The peak of summer had passed now, and the days were growing shorter once more, so the shock of the water on his skin was no longer the welcome balm it had been before.

But when he opened his eyes as the wash of bubbles cleared just in time to see Haru shoot past him, waving his tail flukes in clear invitation for a chase that Haru would never challenge him to with words, a warmth spread through him, driving out the chill of the early fall and lighting a fire under him that pushed him to give pursuit. It had taken months—long, frustrating months—to finally get to this point where they not only had a measure of comfort with one another, they enjoyed each other’s presence, whether interacting or not. Rin would catch himself throwing glances over to the pool in the middle of penning a letter reminding Gou that she wasn’t allowed to get involved with _either_ of the Mikoshiba brothers, and it wasn’t uncommon to feel eyes on him while he dressed after his morning bath, only to turn and find nothing but bubbles painting the surface.

With a great gasping gulp of air, Rin filled his lungs, slicking his hair back from his face with both hands and wiping away the water dripping into his eyes. Haru bobbed up a body length away, settled low in the water as he watched Rin collect himself. Noticing that his eye was drawn to Rin’s hand, he flexed it and showed him the healing scar. “I’ll have to think up a nice story to go along with it—something that makes me sound less stupid than, ‘Tried to stop an assassin’s blade bare-handed and failed’.”

“You’re alive; I don’t think that means you failed entirely,” Haru reasoned, then sank a little lower, so his words were nearly drowned in the water as he muttered, “…The water missed you.”

Rin’s brows lifted in bemusement; there was that strange turn of phrase again. “Well I missed _it_ ,” Rin responded, sweeping his arms through the water to make waves. “Soaking in the tub just doesn’t compare.” He cocked his head. “So? Shall we?”

Racing, as it turned out, was not as easy to accomplish as Rin had hoped.

While the pool was by no means overly cramped, Rin needed a long stretch of open space after a dive to work up momentum, lacking flukes or flippers like Haru that would give him power even from a dead stop. In only a few body lengths, Rin’s fingers were already brushing the far side of the pool, which meant he couldn’t swim at peak performance. Haru mostly rolled his eyes when Rin protested his consecutive losses with this explanation, but Rin remained adamant. “I’m serious! I’m not saying I could beat you _every_ time—”

“Or any of the time.”

“—but I could certainly put up more of a fight,” Rin finished, ignoring the jibe. He hauled himself up onto the steps, stretching his arms over his chest to cool down as Haru regarded him with incredulity. “Just watch—you agree to meet up with me again when this is all over, and I’ll _prove_ it.”

Haru reached over and poked a knee, wrinkling his features. “You’re welcome to try, but I doubt you’re going to get far with _these_ …”

“Just becau— _hey_ …” Rin’s features smoothed and brightened as an idea dawned. “Yeah! There’s now way it’d be a fair race if I’m me and you’re you! You have to swim like a human! Legs and all!”

Haru’s face paled and flushed all at once, his face a patchwork of emotion. “That’s—absolutely not—I would _never_ —”

But Rin was already planning everything out, running away with the idea. “Yeah, yeah! We’ll find one of the deserted islands out on the Laurel so none of the Sultanate sentries will give us any trouble, then we just pick a marker and race! A _fair_ race.”

“How _exactly_ would that be fair? You’ve been using those things your whole life; I can barely stand.”

“You won’t need to stand; just swim.” He slipped into the water again, drawing close with a glittering smile that held all the masked danger of a lazily circling shark. “Or do you need me to teach you to swim? I’ve been told I’m a pretty good teacher; this one guy who worked with me at one point used to sink like a stone, and there was no way he was going to get hired to work on any ship when he was less use than the ship’s anchor. I fixed him up, though.”

“I _know_ how to swim,” Haru protested, petulantly shoving a wall of water Rin’s way.

Rin blocked the spray, shaking his head good-naturedly. “I’m _really_ gonna have to get you to be a bit more adventurous. Mark my words—I’ll take you on an adventure some day.”

Haru’s expression softened unexpectedly—certainly not the reaction Rin had predicted. “…What will you do?”

“Huh?”

Haru turned his back to him, floating lazily away and feigning disinterest. “After the year is up, when we’re freed from this Bond… You’ll go somewhere, won’t you?”

Confused by the sudden chill in the conversation, Rin shrugged. “Well, yeah; I mean, this isn’t my home. We can’t stay here.” Not that he really had a home to return to; Gou and his mother lived too far inland for his tastes, and the dockside apartments he’d been squatting in had likely long since been given over to proper tenants. He’d never spent more than a week at a time in harbor before anyway, though, so this wasn’t a great loss. With a sigh, he settled onto his back, floating aimlessly as he admitted, “Guess I’ll have to find a new line of work…”

Haru’s voice sounded closer when he spoke. “You can’t go back to your former post?”

Rin laughed without much mirth. “Asking them to hold my position for a year would’ve been too much to begin with, never mind the fact that…well, men like myself aren’t in nearly as high demand these days as…before.” Before the treaty, he didn’t finish—though he suspected Haru understood all the same. “What about you?”

He could hear the thoughtful frown in Haru’s tone. “…I don’t really know. I wasn’t anything special before…and I don’t expect that to change, after.”

Rin’s brows rose. “Seriously? You weren’t, like, captain of the guard or something? Or a Prince or—I dunno, took down a whole warship with your own two hands?” The look Haru gave him showed he wasn’t sure if he should be offended or amused. “…So the Sultanate sent _me_ , and all we got as a show of good faith from the Mer was…you? No offense, but we got the short end of the stick in that trade.”

Haru likely didn’t understand the particulars of the arrangement, but he shrugged nonetheless. “Perhaps your leaders should be more shrew in negotiations in the future. If I’d been framed in your murder, as that assassin had intended, the Junta would likely have let your people string me up as a scapegoat and moved on without so much as a ripple in the water. I’m expendable.”

That he didn’t seem overly concerned by this declaration sent a shudder of unease through Rin, and he twisted around to glance over at Haru, who’d adopted the same back-floating position, eyes raised to the ceiling to stare up at the blanket of stars now visible through the skylight as evening dawned. “…I think I’m going to become a sailor. A proper one.” He raised a hand up, trying to grab the stars as he made a fist. “My dad always wanted to be one—to get out there and explore the world. But then he started a family, and he had to provide for us, so that didn’t really happen. After the war started and we…lost him, I had to fill the role he left, but…I think I’d like it. Leaving this place, seeing the wide world waiting just outside the Laurel. I think my dad would have liked it, too.”

There was a pause, before Haru allowed, “That…seems like it would suit you.”

Rin rolled onto his stomach, treading water as he floated closer; Haru seemed to have a natural buoyancy that Rin envied, if forced to admit it. “You could come with me, you know. I’ll hitch a ride on a mercantile ship, and we’ll sail out into the open ocean, every port a new place to explore.” He draped his arms over Haru’s chest, amused when the action didn’t sink the both of them. “We’ll start a new legend—about how having a Syren riding the bow waves along the journey brings good luck. Sailors are a superstitious sort, after all.” To sweeten the deal, he added, “And think of all the new fish you could try.”

Haru closed his eyes, sighing, “You and your adventures…”

And while that wasn’t a proper answer, it seemed to be the only one Rin was going to get, for that ended their conversation for the rest of the evening.

* * *

“Don’t slip…” Rin warned, keeping a solid but gentle grip on Haru’s shoulders as he guided him on unsteady legs into the bathing salon. The floor was still slick from his own bath that morning, and the last thing he needed now was Haru taking one unsure step and cracking his skull on the tile.

“This…this was not a good idea—I should go back—”

“Your _lips_ were turning blue; no amount of heated water pumped into that pool was going to make it livable. Just accept that you’re gonna be spending the final month of our ‘honeymoon’ in a lovely, spacious tub—”

“Spacious to _you_ , perhaps; I can’t even stretch out my tail…”

“—with water so warm you’ll think you’re in the Southern Isles.” Haru’s grip about his wrist tightened as his right foot lost traction, and he let out a frightened gasp. “Easy—you’re almost there. And we wouldn’t have this problem if you’d shift more and actually _practice_ walking…”

Haru gave an experimental sniff. “…It smells strange.”

“The essential oils in the water. It’s good for you.”

“ _Oil_ in the water? Why would you put—”

“Because _it’s good for you_. And it smells nice.”

“Water shouldn’t _smell_ at all.”

“Lift your foot—and who cares if it should or shouldn’t?” Haru complied, taking several attempts to get his foot high enough to clear the tub’s high rim. But as soon as his toe touched the water, he leaped back, clinging to Rin. “What—too hot?” Rin tested the water, just to be sure, but it didn’t feel unbearable.

“It’s…it’s supposed to be that hot?” A nod. “…I’ve been to the Southern Isles. _That_ feels more like something coming off a lava vent.”

“Baby,” Rin chided fondly. “It’ll feel amazing once you’re settled in, I promise. Just take it easy, and your body will get used to it.”

“How do you stand it…?” Haru whined with a frown as he gingerly submerged one foot, the other wobbling unsteadily beneath him while Rin provided support. “You do this daily?”

“It feels good; especially in the winter.” At this, a thought struck him. “What do you usually do when it gets cold?”

Haru tested his stance when his foot brushed the bottom of the tub, being sure he had proper footing. “The temperatures don’t fluctuate as drastically the deeper you go; most are either comfortably accustomed to the temperature at depth or simply migrate south until the spring.”

Rin nodded, recalling that the rates of Mer attacks and Syren sightings tended to dip in the chillier months. “Well, we’ve missed our chance to request a transfer south, so we’ll have to stick out the rest of our sentence taking turns in the bath to keep warm, I suppose.”

Haru’s other leg cleared the lip of the tub, and he looked himself over, seemingly satisfied that he wasn’t about to melt from the heat. “It’s roomier than I assumed; you could fit as well.”

Rin immediately released his grip, taking a measured step back. “That’s…probably not a good idea,” he laughed nervously. In quarters cramped as their own and being forced into close proximity for months at a time, they’d both seen each other in various states of nudity without much issue, and even the swims Rin had indulged in had never felt all that embarrassing, as Haru didn’t seem to find the human form anything but strange and amusing. But settled cheek to cheek, as it were, in a warm bath, skin brushing skin and the slick slide of water smoothing the way…it would be all too easy to forget that this was _Haru_ and not some nameless, faceless encounter in a bathhouse.

For all that they were ‘bonded’ in Mer terms, their relationship was merely that of companions, nothing more. In another month and a half, this Bond—and their time together—would be finished, and they’d go their separate ways. One year hence, they’d both be distant bad memories fading with time—Haru back in his complacent little shell, and Rin riding over the horizon to destinations unknown.

So no, bathing together would not be a good idea at all.

Haru wobbled a bit unsteadily on his legs, and Rin rushed back to his side, ensuring he didn’t slip. “I mean—I already bathed, and it might be less cramped with legs instead of a tail, but it’s still a tight fit with two, so…” He shook his head again, offering Haru a hand to steady himself.

Haru just shrugged. “As you will, then.” Rin guided him to sit, and with only a few more yelps and protests that _perhaps I’ll just wade like this…_ Haru was finally settled, stretched out in the tub with his neck settled on a cushion, looking confused at the comfort.

Rin grinned in satisfaction. “See? What’d I tell you. Feels great, right?”

“It still…feels strange.”

Rin snorted, then shuffled around to the cabinet in the corner. “Want me to wash your hair?”

“Wash my…what? Why would you do that?”

Rin shrugged, rifling through the cabinet’s contents. “You’ve probably never had it done, or a proper bath for that matter, so I figure while I’ve got you in here, I can indulge you. Show you the best humanity has to offer.”

“ _This_ is the best?” He didn’t need to be facing Haru to hear the incredulity in his tone.

“Hey, we know how to do luxury; now shut up and let me pamper you.”

Once Rin actually explained the point of the shampoo oil regimen and wheedled agreement from Haru—never an easy task, but one Rin had grown skilled with over the past few months—he settled on a knee pillow at the tub’s edge and instructed Haru to tilt his head back, orienting them over a drain. Dipping a ladle into a bucket of standing water, he wet the scalp and massaged the strands gently to wet them where they’d begun to dry. This close, he could see that the hair wasn’t as jet black as he’d assumed all this time, instead shot through with strands of midnight and indigo that caught the candle light as Rin worked the strands.

He gently combed out any knots he found, massaging the scalp as he went and rubbing in the essential oils that Haru had scoffed at earlier. From his silence, Rin might have thought he’d fallen asleep, but every now and then, he’d find a muscle kink in Haru’s shoulder or a patch of scalp he hadn’t yet seen to, and a tremor would ripple through Haru’s body, from stem to stern. He took this as clear evidence he was doing a good job of making this a pleasurable experience, for Haru never hesitated to let him know he didn’t like something but was sparing with his compliments.

“Pinch your eyes shut; this will sting if any drips in,” he warned ladling water over the sudsy mass atop Haru’s head to rinse it clean. “Now you’re gonna smell like lavender and jasmine for a whole week,” he mused with a smile.

“Smells good…” was the slurred response, and Rin snorted.

“I think the fumes are getting to you, or else you’ve been in here so long you’re getting heatstroke.”

Haru frowned, opening one eye, “I’m simply acknowledging that you might have had a point.”

“And that's why I stand by my belief that the fumes are getting to you.” He dragged the floor cushion over to the side of the tub, letting the soapy water drain away while Haru soaked. “Feel better now?”

“Mm,” was the noncommittal response as Haru let himself relax again.

“It’s a shame you can’t dry out; no way to burrow under a nice bed of furs and blankets or sit by a fire to keep warm.” They’d made sure an attendant came in every couple of hours to keep the fire going throughout the night, but the distance from the pool kept it from doing too much good. “Guess you wouldn’t want to sacrifice your sentience for a bit of warmth, but…still.”

Haru’s eyes slowly blinked open again, and he stared ahead blankly. “There’s a legend…”

“Hm?”

“There’s a legend, about why we lose ourselves when we desiccate.”

“Chatty tonight, aren't we?” he teased, then pursed his lips and nodded when Haru shot him a look. "I'm all ears; regale me with some classic Mer lore."

Haru sank down a bit lower in the tub, his chin brushing the surface, and his knees popped up, knocking together as he settled in to get comfortable. "Supposedly, long ago, there was a mermaid who fell in love with a human. She would shift to be with him, but she always had to come back to the water before she dried out fully, or else her body would forget its true shape and she'd be trapped forever." Rin crossed his arms, resting his chin in the nest they made as he relaxed against the lip of the tub, listening to Haru's gentle, melodic tone that made him wonder what he sounded like in his native Lorelei. "They kept up their secret liasons for a full year—before she could bear it no longer and resolved to give up her tail to be with her lover. However, the Gods of the Deep feared she would divulge precious secrets of the Mer and our culture to her new human peers, so they stripped her of everything she had—took away her memories, her knowledge. It served as a warning to others as well...to never mix with humans."

"...Not a very happy legend."

"I never claimed it was."

"So what kinds of great Mer secrets are you guarding, hm?"

Haru almost smiled in the candlelight, closing his eyes. "If I told you, they wouldn't be secrets then."

Rin snorted, not having expected anything different. "I suppose not... Hey." Haru gave a soft _Hm?_ "Would you ever do it?"

"Do what?"

"Give up the water. If you fell in love with a human. Assuming you wouldn't wind up a drooling imbecile like those poor saps they keep in the gaols."

A frown tugged at Haru's lips as he gave the prospect some thought. "...I'm afraid I can't imagine it. The thought frightens me, to be honest."

"Losing your tail?"

"No—" Haru started, then cut himself off, shaking his head. "Never mind..." A few moments of silence passed between them, the only sound the soft dripping of water from a crack in the floor somewhere, echoing loudly around the bath chamber. "...You?"

"What about me?"

"...Would you ever do it? Give up the land, if you fell in love with a Syren?"

Rin raised a brow. "Is that even possible?" Haru shrugged, clearly unconcerned with the logistics of the hypothetical, and Rin humored him, tapping his fingers against the sides of the tub and sending ripples through the water. "...I guess, sure. Why not?" Haru's expression reflected his clear displeasure with Rin's apparent lax attitude on the notion of abandoning his humanity. "I really like the water; I think I'd make a great Syren. Then I could kick your ass on a daily basis, and I consider that a very tempting draw, personally." He flinched when Haru clapped a hand against the surface to splash him—only belatedly realizing the action had been largely taken to cover the light flush pinking Haru's cheeks. Had he said something out of line? "What was that for?"

"It was a serious question."

"And I gave a serious response. I do like the water; and I _would_ relish the opportunity to put you in your place regularly." He reached into the water, tugging free the cork that plugged the bottom of the tub and letting the water seep out, to Haru's dismay. "And since you refuse to humor me by letting me teach you to swim like a human, I guess I'll just have to sprout a tail if I want to spend more time with you."

When Rin shifted to stand, Haru twisted around in the tub, clasping the rim as he tended to do the pool's edge to stare up at Rin. "You want to spend more time with me? I'm not a burden?"

Rin brushed down his robes, checking to be sure he hadn't let them touch any standing water. "A burden? I'll confess, I'm looking forward to being able to leave this room again without getting slammed by a headache the size of the Garland Sentry, but..." He shrugged, unconcerned. "There are worse ways I could have spent the last eleven months, I guess. So yeah, I wouldn't mind. But I'd rather do it outside these walls, if it's at all the same to you."

Haru settled back down again, watching as the water drained away around him. "...I hate it here. The pool's nearly frozen, it's cramped, I can't read Trade well enough to enjoy any of your books, and I think I liked this bath, but I'll never be able to have one again." He braced his arms on the tub's rim, fingers clenched white-knuckled as he took deep breaths. "I want out..."

Rin watched him with mild concern—but he could understand Haru's frustration. He kept everything bottled up, and when it let loose, it was a maelstrom. He'd clearly been dragged from a rather boring, mundane life into this business he had no part of, and while Rin hadn't regarded him as a 'wild animal' in months, at times like this he certainly seemed it. "...Just another few weeks. And then we'll be free." He stretched a hand down. "Come on, back in the pool. Your Junta will skin me alive if I give them back a Mer-man." When Haru didn't immediately take his hand, he made a grab for Haru's wrist—then froze when Haru whirled on him and grabbed his forearm. "...Haru?"

"I hate it here…but the water will miss you."

He spoke the words with such insistence, forcing understanding through his tone, but Rin still didn't grasp whatever it was Haru was trying to impress upon him, so he just thinned his lips into an uncomfortable smile and patted Haru's hand lightly. "Well I'm still gonna be around it; ships float on the water, after all." The way the hopeful glint left Haru's eye told him that hadn't been the right response, but it was all he had to offer just now, so he changed the subject as he tugged Haru to his feet. "So...this Bond thing. It's not permanent, right? It'll dissolve once the year's up?"

A nod. "Few but the most traditional of mated pairs even have it applied anymore; I suppose it became too great a burden to be worth the commitment."

"Certainly keeps your intended from wandering, though. I can think of a few upper-crust ladies who'd be thrilled to slap their husbands with a Bond to be sure they kept their hands to themselves for a while."

"Is monogamy uncommon in the Sultanate?" He was starting to get the hang of his legs, barely scraping the tub's edge as he gingerly stepped out and relying less on Rin's support than his first few shifts.

Rin shrugged. "I think it becomes less in-vogue the wealthier you are; I guess the more money you have, the more distractions you need from your lack of financial problems." Haru didn't seem to understand, and Rin couldn't blame him. He snatched up a blanket that had been warming by the fire, figuring it couldn't hurt; he wasn't going to dry out on the walk from the bathing chamber to the pool. Haru must have come to the same conclusion, for he muttered a soft _Thanks_ when Rin draped it over his shoulders.

"Have you...ever needed such distractions?"

Rin nearly faltered a step, recovering with a cough. "Is...that your way of asking me if I sleep around?" Haru didn't respond, completing the final few steps to the pool's edge without Rin's aid. He let the blanket slip from his shoulders, and it pooled in a heap at his feet as he tested the water with a toe. Rin swallowed once—then looked away, reminding himself for the second time in the past hour that despite Haru's admittedly pleasing human form, he _wasn't_ human, and to forget this was folly all around. Haru's own faerie tale earlier had proven as such. "...I tend to focus all my energies to one end. If I ever settled down, I think it would have to be for keeps. No distractions."

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the ripples of disturbed water catching the early moonlight shining down as dusk gave way to full night, and when he turned back around fully, he found Haru seated on the steps, half submerged but still with legs. He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong—perhaps it finally _was_ too chilly to expect him to bear being confined to the pool. They could always set up a larger tub in the bathing chamber, or perhaps drag a brazier close to the pool. But before he could make any such inquiries or suggestions, Haru cast a glance over his shoulder with an unreadable expression and admitted, "...You were right; you _would_ make a fine Syren."

* * *

The Bond dissolved underneath a bright, crisp spring sun, blinding in its brilliance and reflecting nothing of the solemn severity that the moment merited, Rin felt.

They stood on a beach strand—a few representatives from the Sultanate flanking Rin, who faced a group of Mer elders sheltering their own, ready to welcome him back into the fold. Haru wouldn’t look at him—or anywhere but down—which set a shard of irritation throbbing in Rin’s chest. They’d just spent a year cheek-to-jowl with one another, so surely they could part on comfortable terms.

He supposed he should have expected it, though; over the past few weeks, Haru had been slowly but certainly slipping back inside his shell, like winding back the clock to those frustrating early months together, until he seemed as cold and wary as he had when he’d first been deposited in their pool. His attitude now, as their respective representatives droned on about oaths fulfilled and signs of fortune and prosperity for their peoples, was less a shock of cold water and more the ultimate end for what had never been a promising start.

Someone called in Trade for attention in a military staccato, and Rin instinctively straightened, swallowing his frustration as he watched the Mer cadre march back into the oncoming tide, carrying themselves and Haru down into the depths where they belonged. 

He realized, of course, that his reaction to their parting was utterly ridiculous and inexcusable; they had made do, putting up with a situation neither of them wanted, and though Rin had hoped there had been some stirrings of friendship between them, he had likely only seen what he wanted to—a companion, where there was really only a fellow prisoner.

They weren’t lovers, like in that old Mer faerie tale, but they were just as doomed to spend their lives apart.

He snorted softly to himself at the phrasing he’d used— _doomed_. As if the bitterness he felt at being denied a proper parting from his erstwhile cellmate was, as a given, shared by Haru. That he hadn’t even merited a backwards glance before the aged white heads and bald pates had sunk beneath the waves suggested otherwise, and as Gou like to say, his romantic notions would earn him a broken heart one of these days.

He didn’t think his heart was broken, just now, but he certainly wasn’t feeling like he’d thought he would when this day finally came.

The crowd on the beach dispersed, and various men of higher rank than Rin was comfortable addressing issued him their congratulations and thanks for helping ensure the treaty would hold. Even the Commander Prince himself had slapped his back and given him a nod as he passed, directing a trailing manservant to “take care of the details”.

The “details”, as it turned out, had been a year’s backpay—what he would have earned in his old position working security for a mercantile vessel and _then_ some—and, at his request, papers that would see him stationed on any ship of his choosing, departing whenever he pleased. He held his freedom in his hands; he could set his mother and Gou up comfortably and still have plenty left over to see himself safely across the horizon to new ports of call his father could only have dreamed of.

It was more than he could have hoped for, so he tamped down the bitterness with reminders that such feelings were ridiculous and unmerited, and reserved a room in an inn by the docks nice enough that he wouldn’t have to worry his rather heavy purse might be stolen in the middle of the night.

He tried to nap—something he’d grown used to in his year of confinement, to Haru’s annoyance—but the bustling sounds of the dock outside his window and the scent of a late lunch being prepared kept him from drifting off, so he opted instead for a walk about the harbor, casually scanning the waterfront for any dark heads that might happen to pop-up unannounced. Of course, none showed themselves—at peace though their peoples might be, any Mer activity this close to shore would be met with no small measure of hostility. Haru couldn’t drop in for a visit even if he wanted to. “And he wouldn’t want to,” Rin reminded himself, keeping his tone severe as if scolding a small child.

The creak of old wood grinding against even older wood caught his attention as he arrived at a corner where an alley T-boned into the main harbor stretch, and he glanced up to see a sign swinging in the ocean breeze: a bookshop. The small windows facing the harbor were a thick tempered glass, a necessity to keep out the elements, but peering in, Rin could see that it was quite dead and empty, save for an old woman hunched over a parchment.

Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he slipped just inside the threshold, glancing about warily until the woman rasped, “If you’re coming in, Son, do so. I’ve just finished cleaning salt spray from a tome older than your great-grandsire, and I’m not keen to start on another volume just because you can’t make up your mind.” The whole time, she didn’t look up once, but Rin hastily obliged, letting the door rattle shut behind him as he scurried forward.

It was dim, no candles about—likely too dangerous, given the contents of the shop—but the windows still let in just enough light to make out the titles lining the shelves. Histories, Romances, Poetic Epics, some titles in languages he couldn’t hope to decipher, all looking like they might crumble into dust if he stared for too long.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Son?”

Rin nearly jumped out of his skin, whirling around when he realized the old woman had somehow made her way from the counter to his side without his noticing. Her eyes were milky with cataracts, but she still fixed him with a knowing stare, one wiry brow raised into her thinning hairline.

“I…” Rin glanced around, not entirely sure why he was here in the first place, let alone what he might possibly be looking for. He swallowed and asked for the first thing that came to mind: “…Do you have any books on Lorelei? There’s a phrase I heard… I used to work on a ship, and I was just wondering what it meant.”

“Lorelei? Cultivating an interest in Mer culture, are we?” She hobbled over to a shelf that looked about ready to collapse, shoving aside towers of books to reach it. Rin might have offered to help, but the woman looked like she’d as soon bite his hand off as accept any charity. “It’s a dictionary you’re after, then? Or a grammar?” She cast a withering look his way. “It’s not _dirty_ is it? Because I’m not going to help you learn to ask a Mer lass if she’d like to ride your—”

“No! No—no, I mean, that is—I don’t think so? The phrase is Trade, but it’s…a translation. And I don’t quite understand the translation, so I was hoping I might find the original Lorelei and determine what…the speaker actually meant?” His voice went up a bit, hopeful, at the end, and after another moment pinned by her gaze, he was eventually freed.

She _hmphed_ softly and waved him over to the front desk. “Before I break my back trying to find a book that might help you, let an old sea witch take a crack at it—my grandsire was a Mer-man, bless his soul, but he still managed to teach me a bit of the language, despite his difficulties.”

Rin scrambled over to the stool she directed him to, mounting it and ignoring the painful thudding of his heart and the rush of adrenaline in his veins. This was ridiculous, this old woman was going to think him an ignorant fool, or else it really _had_ meant nothing—

“Well? Out with it, Child.”

He swallowed and nodded. “I…is there any particularly special meaning, in Mer culture, to the phrase, ‘the water misses you’?”

Now that he’d spoken it aloud, it sounded even _more_ ludicrous; it was just a strange turn-of-phrase, and that he’d somehow gotten it into his head that there was some deeper meaning, that it wasn't just _Haru being Haru_ but something he needed to understand—well that was just pathetic.

But the old woman let out a soft hissing cackle, shaking her head. "That just sounds like your translator wasn't as proficient with Trade as he liked to think." She proceeded to roll up the parchment she'd been poring over when Rin entered, rattling off her explanation matter-of-factly. "Water's such a pervasive element in Mer culture, it's almost taken on a life of its own in their language as well. You'll often hear it—in the native Lorelei, mind you—used to replace personal pronouns, like _I_ or _you_ or _he_ in Trade. Saying _The water caught a fish_ would probably just be a flubbed _He caught a fish_. Or _The water looks beautiful_ in context might mean _You look beautiful_." She waved a gnarled hand in Rin's direction. " _The water misses you_...I'd wager it's something like _I miss you_. It's a common enough mistake." She then cocked her head and raised a brow. "You _sure_ you aren't trying to woo yourself a Mer bride?"

Rin froze in place, letting her explanation wash over him—it had been a riddle. A _true riddle_ under his very nose. Haru had probably made the mistake honestly that first time, but every instance afterward...just more attempts to be open without _being open_ , to allow himself a moment of honesty without having to suffer Rin's teasing backlash. And Rin had ignored it, passing it off as a quirk of Trade as spoken by a Syren.

The woman was still droning on, clearly enjoying the tangent. "...actually quite interesting from a linguistic perspective, the extent to which their very environment permeates their lives, if you'll pardon the pun. Why, even pledging a pair bond starts with a request that translates in Trade to 'swim for me', one partner in essence asking the other to _live_ for them, to share their lives together..." She must have noticed Rin was no longer paying much attention, for she trailed off and snapped angry fingers in his face. "Well, boy? Did I solve your mystery?"

Rin flinched, jerking back, then ran a hand through his hair, weighing his options. With a sharp nod, he thanked her and was out the door in a flash, her protest of, " _So you're not even gonna buy anything?_ " ringing in his ear as he fled.

* * *

It came as little surprise when Rin was unable to hire a skiff to take him out to the Garland Sentry; not even the promise of a fat reward to make it well worth their time would convince any sailor to risk life and livelihood to ferry Rin out across the Mer territory that made up the bay. Rin couldn't honestly blame them; fishing vessels had been promised safe passage through the bay and _out_ of the Laurel, but dawdling in the inner Mer waters was inviting trouble. In the end, he wound up buying one of the single-man vessels outright and ignoring the warnings of the curious onlookers who watched him leave, headed for the only place he could think to go. Haru wasn't a seal pup to be summoned with a whistle, nor could Rin just flag down the nearest Syren and ask where he might find "Haruka-somethingsomething". He'd have to go out searching. 

The winds were blessedly strong and the chop gentle as Rin put his years of seafaring to the test; it had been some time since he'd had to steer a ship, let alone steer one _himself_ , but the skills his father had passed down still ran strong in his blood, and the sun was only just starting to creep toward the distant horizon when Rin finally came in sight of the Garland Sentry. The Sentry was the last outpost of the string of islands that made up the Laurel before one hit open water, and in centuries past, when the Sultanate's enemies had lain in distant lands rather than leagues beneath the surface, the Sentry had been the point of advance notice of approaching ships, the first to alert the mainland to head to arms. Now, it sat abandoned, populated more by rats and gulls than humans these days.

But her beaches were still warm and white, and her shallows an inviting place for picnicking. Rin hadn't been entirely serious the one time he'd suggested they stage a reunion there, but some part of him must have known that if they were to ever see each other again, it would have to be there, on that little island furthest from the mainland and the judging gazes of their peoples. Now, it wasn't that he thought Haru wouldn't recall the conversation—only that he wouldn't care.

Except he _did care_. He _cared_ , enough to tell Rin a half a dozen times over in their final few months together that there had been merit in the Treaty's wording: As sea was bound to shore was bound to sea, so had they been, and so had their nations. Two people who _hated_ each other and everything they stood for, dragged into an agreement against their will, and they'd not only managed to not throttle or drown or gut or dispose of one another by any nefarious means, they'd _thrived_. Sometimes you couldn't sit around passively and _wait_ for things to work out—sometimes you had to force it. Whether through a grudging treaty or a Bond or any means necessary.

He rolled his leggings up over his knees, jumping into the chilly water when his skiff brushed the sandy beach bottom and dragging it high enough onto the shore to ensure it wouldn't be washed away with the tide. Glancing about, the Sentry seemed as deserted as ever, but Rin recalled there was an outpost on the northern edge which granted a clear view of the whole island, and looping his sandals through his belt loop, he took off across the wide, white strand at a barefoot jog.

He found Haru's tracks long before he found Haru himself, the tide having rolled out before lapping high enough to wash away the faint footprints in the sand that spoke of a staggering, wobbling gait no human of Haru's size would have been afflicted with outside of a healer's hut. For someone who'd claimed he would never shift again, Haru seemed to have grown attached to his human form, and Rin tamped down a flash of pride that threatened to well up when he noticed the footprints slowly shift from a toddler's erratic gait to something that might pass for an adult human.

The prints ended abruptly under a tanned rear plopped down in the sand just at the water's edge, knees drawn up to his chest as the waves lapped over his toes. His hair was nearly dry and windblown, a sign he'd been here a while, but the patches of scales covering his joints still glittered in the late-afternoon sun.

“I said it before and I’ll say it again: I really do like the water,” Rin announced softly when he'd drawn close enough to be sure his words wouldn't be lost in the ocean breeze, and the slight stiffening to Haru's spine told him he'd been heard loud and clear. He trailed a finger over the scales flashing opal on the shoulder oriented nearest to him, then used it to brace himself as he settled down beside Haru to watch the waves. "Would it have killed you to be direct?"

Haru just shrugged, flippant. "Too annoying."

Rin rolled his eyes and bumped their shoulders. "Maybe I should've had you teach me some Lorelei; then we could've avoided this whole mess."

"Your Lorelei would sound terrible; you can't even pronounce my name." He cocked his head to the side, staring at Rin out of the corner of his eye, before asking, "...Why did you come here?"

Rin kept his gaze focused on the breakers in the distance, but allowed his lips to curl up at their edges, the beginnings of a very smug, satisfied smile. "...Looking for a distraction."

"A distraction?"

Rin gave a conciliatory nod, then amended: " _My_ distraction." When Haru didn't press for further explanation, Rin turned the question back on him."What about you? We only just parted ways this morning—already bored with celebrating your newfound freedom?" Never mind the fact that Rin had been no more successful in enjoying finally being free of the Bond and their confinement than Haru apparently had.

The waves that had moments ago been lapping over their toes were starting to draw back out to sea, and with a sigh, Haru shifted to his knees and then upright, waving off Rin's hand as he moved to help steady him. "I don't think I had a reason. Before. But I think now..." He took a few tentative paces forward, letting the water wash the mud from his toes and curling them to feel the sand between them before trudging into deeper water, one hand out behind himself waiting for Rin to reach for him. "I'm here to let you teach me how to swim."

Rin took in the vision before him—the distant crashing waves, Haru bare-skinned and beckoning, and a flat, empty expanse all to themselves... It was freedom incarnate—and Rin deemed it without a doubt the best sight he'd ever seen.

He eased up, unlacing the ties at his throat and peeling off his tunic. "On one condition—" Tossing the clothing aside, he reached for the outstretched hand. "After we're done...you have to come on an adventure with me."

He wanted Haru to see that sight too—and more than anything, to be the one to show it to him.


End file.
